… Which should, of course, have been the name for yesterday’s post, but I didn’t want my themes to get mixed, if you see what I mean.
However, I will say that we chose the right day to lay bricks. It rained every other day, and is raining right now, and was decidedly chilly today and wouldn’t have been pleasant for an effete pleasure-lover like wot I am to work in the cold. There was a frost, probably just an air frost, last night, which Al discovered when he went out to work at larkfart this morning, and he’s harvested most, if not all, of the squashes tonight. Or, rather, this evening when it wasn’t raining.
After my late-night chat with Dave, I was woken after a mere hour’s sleep, at 2am, by the burglar alarm going off. It has been renamed. It is the mouse alarm, god bother’em. I couldn’t even be arsed to put anything on, but stumbled downstairs, turned it off and came back up. My startled and relaxed knee hurt a lot. I wriggled myself into a comfortable position, the Sage cuddled up to me and I stuck an over-warm leg out of the bed. Then I got a tickle on my back. A spontaneous tickle, that is, not anything that anyone did to me. After a while, the Sage’s hand strayed near it so I gratefully asked for a rub in the right place, which was lovely.
Today, I sang in a music lesson. I’m no singer, I was being a good-natured Good Example. Not a solo, I hasten to add. I was rather happy because a lad had approached me happily to say that he had practised and perfected the riff I taught him in the last lesson. That was really good, that he’d done it willingly and that he’d wanted to tell me.
Tomorrow is the Harvest Supper. I have said I’ll make a beef cobbler (gosh, how retro. I haven’t done such a thing in at least 20 years) and a pudding, each for 16 people.